Ten Themes of Frank Archer
by LimeshellsAreLazy
Summary: Well technically it'll be ten themes of RoyArcher. The themes were created by Deava-kun, I'm merely bringing them to fanfiction. Five Themes Left!
1. A Bothering Subordinate

**Well, as today is the first day of non-Redd I figured I'd try and start some fanfictions. Wednesday is my late day, where I go to class about an hour later then usual. So yeah, that gives me some time. Shame I forgot and woke up anyway, wasn't too pleased about that. Well hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: If I did own Fullmetal Alchemist I'd be Hiromu Arakawa, and last time I checked cows can't type**

Chapter One: A Bothering Subordinate

"You see, you skipped a comma here _sir_" Oh, how that word just dripped like arsenic from Archer's mouth, his lips felt as if they were burning enough just from saying it. "And I believe that should have been capitalized"

"Thank you Lieutanent Colonel Archer" Roy grumbled, not even bothering to look up at the paper work his underling was so desperate to shove into his face. Couldn't Archer see he was busy! Busy tinkering with his pocket watch, and busy taking a few naps, and then later that night he would be busy trying to finish the paperwork that should have been done hours ago. Roy Mustang followed a tight schedule you could say, and for some reason Archer seemed persistent to break it. "May I ask you something lieutanent Colonel?"

No, of course not. Archer wanted to roll his eyes, instead he just made towards Roy's couch. Almost seething at how much more comfortable it was then his own. Oh well, he gently scuffled the papers back into a neat stack and placed then at the corner of the coffee table, then leaned back and crossed his legs casually. "What do you wish to ask me sir?"

Oh, Roy intended to ask him quiet a bit. "You've been my subordinate for two weeks, perhaps three Archer. Through the weeks you've instantly cemented yourself within the work place, you're a very dependable and intelligent man. However..." The Colonel sighed and rubbed his temple, but he had to siphon himself an answer. "You've been...well...bothering me..."

Archer held the smirk that dared to spread across his face firmly in place, keeping the usual apathetic frown plastered.

"You're constantly taking my paperwork and even going so far as to correct what you deem unacceptable. Then you come here, taking my time, to simply point out those flaws to me"

"You say that like it's a bad thing sir" Archer shrugged, noticing a bit of a scruff against his shoe. He'd have to shine it out when he got home. "Paperwork, and _revising_ paperwork, is expected of me. Are you condemning me because I'm doing my job?"

There was a scruff, Roy noticed, focusing on the man's shoes rather then his words. He didn't particularly wish to make eye contact; he'd probably freeze to death just looking at that ice. Archer's words were painfully true and basically meant that Roy was being immature and childish for even mentioning. Or revising what Roy had said, if you wanted to think of it the way Archer did. "No…" He strained, tension in his voice, as he leaned up against the edge of the mahogany desk. "You are doing your job. Perhaps to well then I'm accustomed too, but you're doing it none the less….I'd just like to know why I suppose, put the mind at ease..."

Uncrossing and crossing his legs Archer eyed the large stack of documents on the coffee table, seeming uninterested.

"Do you go out of your way to put me down, even in the most insignificant ways, because you think you're better then me? Do you do this because you want what I have, and what I am going to have?"

A hard rock stuck in Archer's throat, but his eyes stacked focused on the paperwork. He didn't need to look over at Roy to know the man was beaming with pride and frustration. He himself was in a cold sweat. Always fire and ice, weren't they? The Lieutenant Colonel swallowed hard, not sure how to counter his boldness. Well, fight fire with fire. Though he didn't often work with the element. "A lot of questions you've got sir. The answer to both of those questions is yes. Yes and know. It's true, I see myself superior to you as well as everyone else. It's nothing personal. Yes, I will become Fuhrer because I know that's what you're indicating. However there's something else" He rose to his feet, idly fiddling with the cuffs on his sleeves.

Something else? Roy thought, attempting to back up further into the desk as Archer strolled over. "What do you mean?" He stammered as a cold pale hand cupped his round olive cheek. He didn't attempt to stifle it.

Archer smiled softly, faintly, and gently ran his thumb over the smooth flesh before wrapping his arm around Roy's neck, leaning into his chest and inhaling his cologne wantonly. "I don't want to be in love with a man who doesn't do his job right"

**Well, my dad will be home within minutes. Hope you all enjoy the first chapter, nine more to go. They'll all be one shots, though they'll also all be RoyArcher. Rate and review!**


	2. Decoration

**Alright, so here's chapter two. I've come to remember that Redd requested RoyArcher from me, so I suppose all of this could count. Even if I'm just doing it because I wanted to. Haha.**

Decoration

"Sir, this feels highly...unprofessional.."

December was by far the worst month to work at Central Headquarters. For many reasons. Violence and driving under the influence seemed to sky rocket in hefty stacks of paperwork.

Though Archer didn't particularly mind all of that, he didn't even mind the late night shifts working. He had worked through his entire career through such, why would a little over time concern him now? So long as he got to pull the trigger on a few clay pigeons and have a glass of Scotch through the week he'd be good to go. He'd get over it, as he told himself.

So what was it prey tell that bothered him so much about December you might ask?

Christmas.

Oh how Frank Archer loathed the holiday season. The sound of bells ringing and carolers singing penetrated his ear drums and crashed unpleasantly into his cellebelum. Do not be fooled, it was surely not just the irritating music that boiled his blood. The overly sweetened foods often left one sluggish and feeling bloated. The presents were nothing more then marketing schemes to get parents to buy outrageously priced toys for their children [Archer himself had an assumption that Christmas had been invented by chain store owners, yet hadn't developed enough evidence as of then.

One might assume right off the back that Archer wasn't pleased with Christmas because he didn't have anyone to share it with. That was certainly not true. He had himself, and that was enough to get annoyed with. Having to deal with his parents would be agonizing. So needless to say having to go out of his way, and waste time he would be getting overtime, to decorate the Investigation Department was agonizing.

Having to decorate the Investigation Department with Roy Mustang was a living nightmare. 

"Do you really think we need so many bells?" Archer winced; looking up from the rickety old ladder his superior officer had insisted was safe. "They're constantly ring, and I won't be able to think straight hearing all the ruckus. Let alone work"

"Well…" Roy paused, stepping down daintily step by step. Damnit, they needed a new ladder. "It really doesn't matter what I think, it's what Hakuro thinks. After having a family of his own he began a bit more...Cherry you could say. Doesn't want a December to go by without all this holiday hogwash. I do not celebrate Christmas myself"

"You don't?"

"Really, do I_ look_ like I celebrate Christmas?!" Roy groaned, bending down with a wince to shuffle through an old cardboard box or ornaments. "Recall this year, and the year before since you've worked here Archer. Have you ever heard any soft holiday hums escape my lips? Or have you seen a snowman candy dish upon my desk?"

A soft snort, the only thing he ever saw on Roy's desk was paperwork. _Incomplete _paperwork. "Then why do you insist on helping around to decorate, even going out of your way to decorate departments you don't run?"

Aw! Roy finally found it. Looking through the box for the specific ornament, and a hammer to hang it up with, he hadn't been paying much thought to what Archer asked. But he was sure he heard enough. "Well…It gives me a reason not to do my paperwork! Ha, ha no I'm only kidding though it does in fact do that. To lay my cards all on the table, you know where I want to go with the military. A politically correct and social Fuhrer is a successful Fuhrer. You understand?"

Well of course he understood, though he certainly wouldn't go out of his way to make people like him. Archer believed that fear was the key to gaining control, not love. "We differ in Machiavelli. As well as many other things…"

"Though you have to admit..." _Bang, bang, bang_. "Not all decorations are bad…" _Bang bang bang. _"Or do we differ in that belief as well?" Roy smiled, a small but kind smile, as he stepped back down from the ladder.

Archer looked up, realizing he had been peering down at his shoes for the longest. He hadn't even realized that Roy had gotten back up on the ladder and nailed a bushel of mistletoe above the archway of the door. He blinked, and looked across at his superior officer. Roy continued to play that coy smile across his face. "N-No we don't" Archer mumbled, looking back down at his shoes. "They're not all that bad I suppose..."

**Wow. I really like this version better then the one I wrote in my binder. Here you have it, chapter two! In case my intentions aren't obvious, and they never are, the content of the themes will become less and less fluffy and more and more dirty as they move one. So you get about five chapters of RoyArcher fluff. Please rate and review!**


	3. Starring Down the Barrel

**Well here's chapter three, one chapter I did not enjoy at all. Something about this was extremely difficult; maybe I'm just a bit rusty on writing emotional pieces of work. That and I've already gotten ideas for four and five. Oh well, I've done my best, please enjoy.**

Disclaimer: I am not Hiromu Arakawa. Last time I checked cows can't type fanfiction.

Starring Down the Barrel

It was dark.

The base would remain silent for four hours roughly, Roy would know considering he picked up his pocket watch every four minutes. In his youth he had learned that time moved slowly when it was acknowledged, and he wanted time to move slowly. As slow as physically possible. In a matter of hours the troops would be sent out to Liore, seven thousand men being led by Lieutenant Colonel Fr-

Oops. _Colonel_ Frank Archer.

Speaking of which where was he, Roy wondered, and slowly closed the lid of his pocket watch. Only to fiddle with the chain and open it five times more before sitting up from his desk. Walking down the hallway he kept the trinket at hand. The halls were ominous, and loomed upon him a sense of dread. Ha-ha, so full of metaphors that night. Turning the corner he spotted Archer's door and opened it freely. Roy felt no reason why he needed to knock on his lover's door.

Roy found a reason. "So, do you think you can just blast your problems away?"

"Ever hear of knocking?!" Archer hissed, immediately pulling his eyes from the barrel of his gun. The soldier tried to make it seem as if he was only examining the device, but they both knew better then that. For a moment he just stood there, his glare countering the glare of Roy's. Finally he sighed and leaned back against his desk. "It was a moment of weakness, just one moment of weakness Roy. You know me; you know there's no where else I'd rather be then here…"

"I know that, and that's why it confuses me. Why would you...even think about taking your own life..." The full realization of the situation dawned on Roy. He stepped fully inside and closed the door behind him. "What?! Is something not good enough in your life?! Is that it?! Is none of this enough for you?!"

"Don't make this about you" Frank warned, "I am satisfied with what I have...Even if I don't deserve it…I just get scared, that's all.."

It was unusual for Archer to ever admit weakness, this took Roy off guard. Though not as much as the fucking gun just moments ago probing his lover's mouth. The Flame Alchemist walked over and idly wrapped an arm around Archer's waist and buried his face in the man's shoulder. "I love you"

"I love you too"

Roy leaned back and slapped Archer across the face. "I suppose I deserve that" he whispered weakly, then sobbed in frustration into Roy's chest.

_Clank, clank, clank_

There were many things in like Archer didn't deserve, and if his mind was functioning properly he would be able to name the few. The troops that died for his reckless cause, the rank he had gain through deception and murder. The man that had laid against him at night and stroked his hair back so gently, something he most definitely did not deserve.

None of that mattered now, for Archer was no longer Archer. 

As of now he was a weapon of war, a tool, a _thing_. What more to do then to serve the man who created him? The blast from the grenade had destroyed the majority of his body. His automail was slower, oil leaked from the openings here or there as more pressure was asserting on it to move. His canon mouth was destroyed as well as many of his teeth; they chattered around the inside of his mouth and daintily slipped down his throat. Not to mention his vision, completely gone, Archer was relying fully on heat vision.

But he could still walk; he could still kill.

King Bradley was in trouble, there was an intruder on the premises.

Stepping onto the estate he spotted the man right away, or at least he was sure it was a man. The silhouette seemed familiar somehow, but even as his mind tried to focus his body continued to move forward. Though his gun arm was no longer of any use he still had the one strapped to his holster. He pulled it out and aimed it at the man with no hesitance. 

"..Frank?!" Roy whispered, nearly dropping Selim. The last thing Roy saw was the bottom of the barrel, then a bright light.

_Bang._

Then it was dark.

**I hated this chapter. But I'm determined to write this in order, so this had to come before the others. Either way I hope it was decent, please rate and review.**


	4. Private Pleasures

**This was written before the last chapter but I'm determined to post in the order the challenge was given. I'm also determined to finish somehow before Redd comes back from Japan. This is the second to last fluff oneshot, the last three will be more mature.**

Disclaimer: I am not Hiromu Arakawa. Last time I checked cows can't type fanfiction.

Private Pleasures

Had all the demons in hell come to haunt him!?

Frank Archer groaned loudly like a wounded beast as he struggled to tug at the hundred and sixty pound tumor he had newly developed. Hell, you'd be frustrated too if you had to lug an idiot around with you seven or so blocks. Frank was almost as frustrated with the idiot as much as he was with himself.

Though he was reluctant to admit it, he had a heart. Mind you Frank Archer had an icy bitter heart; one probably two sizes to small. But a heart none the less. So when he saw his boss laying face first in a street gutter he couldn't help but do something. Archer didn't live to far from work, but he had gone out of his way that evening to stop by the grocery store. To his dismay they were out of cottage cheese, and he immediately stomped back home. Not long after did he spot the bafoon. What could he do, as the man's underling he felt obligated to assist.

Unfortunately this meant that Roy Mustang would be staying with him that night in his oh so humble abode. Unfortunate indeed.

"Come on already! Let me open the god damn door!" Archer groaned as Roy leaned on him, the Lieutenant Colonel began fiddling for his keys.

"Let mah love open the door!" Roy squealed like a sick pig, and tumbled forward as Archer finally got it open. "To ya hear'..To ya…Ugh…"

Oh no, he was not about to vomit on Archer's Drachman rug! That had cost him at least three thousand centz. "If you're going to throw up do it in the kitchen sink, I'll be occupying the bathroom" Well he smelled! After carrying Roy about, the smell of sewage had rubbed off onto him. "Stay here alright?" With that the Lieutenant Colonel headed off into the kitchen to get something then to the bathroom, more concerned about his smell then the carpet. Though he did still hope the carpet would be alright. 

Roy did stay as a matter of fact as he watched Archer walk off, then he snuggled himself down comfortably on the couch. That lasted for five or so minutes until he found himself growing incredibly restless. Moving to and fro, Roy budged on his back like a turtle. Then unfortunately slipped, and landed on the floor like a turtle.

The carpet was soft, the blow hardly fazed him. The carpet was very phased by the yellow-green vomit that projected out of Roy's mouth. Slurring he sat up and wiped his lips, then stripped out of his jacket to avoid starring at the stain. Hm. Now where had his little host gone off too? Roy couldn't remember, so the ingenious idea to look around came to his mind.

He managed to get up on his feet and use the wall to balance himself. Not in the kitchen, shame a warm turkey pot pie would really hit the spot. So Roy slowly shuffled himself down the hall and found his hand meet the cold knob of the bathroom door. So he opened it.

"HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?!!?"

Bubbles. Pink soapy bubbles. Roy wasn't sure if Archer was in a bathtub of soap or pretty pink bubble gum. The whole atmosphere was soft and bubbly, with scented candles scattered about and a small tray of strawberries sitting on the closed toilet lid. Frank Archer was indulging himself in a bubble bath, and had just become as pink as the subs around him. "WELL?!?" Frank snapped, threatening to throw his loofa at Roy. As intimidating as it was.

The Colonel just laughed, red faced, and began stripping his close to Archer's dismay. "How wonderful! I love bubble baths!"

Archer just groaned as Roy slipped in aside him. "You're going to dirty my water" He hissed before Roy took his loofa and gestured he wanted to wash him. "..Fine, but you better fucking scrub good for this. Interrupting my privacy..." Frank stopped complaining as the loofa began rubbing against his chest, and let himself soak into the pleasure.

**This was fun. And partically stolen from RedWalGrl-RG who has the theory that Frank Archer indulges himself in pink bubble baths. Please rate and review.**


	5. Something About Duty

**I want to thank Greyliliy for her honest review. Yes I admit they have been tending to get a bit out of character. Though I appreciate your review. I worked really hard to keep this as in character as possible, though how well I did is left for you guys to depict.**

Disclaimer: I am not Hiromu Arakawa. Last time that I checked cows can't type fanfiction.

Something About Duty

"You're not one to drink…"

"You're not one to care of my actions" Frank sneered, his face red and blotchy. Leaning against the counter he sighed and rubbed his tempers; why did Kimbley insist on penetrating every wall he built up around him? Why did he insist on always, _always_ disturbing him when he was trying to blow some steam? Granted, this wasn't the usual way Frank relieved stress but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I don't particularly care" Kimbley snorted, as if offended. "I happen to drink here quiet regularly. As a matter of fact you're in my usual seat"

"Its _you_ that's driven me to drink!"

Ha, and he'd drive Archer to madness if he could help it. Kimbley found it funny that his boss was at a nasty little shit hole in Amestries. He himself only went for the cheap booze and a quick fix. "Is this how the non-so-infamous Franklin Archer celebrates a long awaiting promotion? Colonel, not bad aye? You'll be up there with the rest of em soon-Hey Matt gimme' a tall one will you?"

The newly promoted Colonel just grumbled and tilted his head back, nearly choking on a martini olive.

"Soooo…." The Crimson Alchemist stretched an arm over and stole a plastic sword from one of many empty martini glasses and chewed upon it like a cow grazing. "Wanna tell me how ya' earned it?"

He did not want to tell Kimbley anything, but he'd never get a moment's peace if he didn't…

"You...You're stopping?!" Archer growled. He sat on the ground of the supply closet, naked as all hell, with his legs nearly up behind his ears. Oh, he was not amused by this at all. "If you're bold enough to ask me to do this at work with you, then you had better plan to finish it!"

The tall figure that loomed above him smiled, though the majority of his face was hidden in the closet's shadows. "I didn't think we'd go this far, I assumed it would be a bit of a quickie. Can't miss this meeting though"

Oh of course he couldn't miss _this _meeting. Archer snorted loudly and slowly pulled himself together upright, stretching his legs out casually as he waited for his erection to dimmer down. "You're an ass Roy" How he wished he could say he owned that ass at the very least, but it seemed to work the other way around with them. "Don't let this get to your head. Just because the Fuhrer called you in for a private meaning does not indicate a promotion. He's probably going to scowled you about your paperwork"

"Why should he do that?" Roy pouted, reaching down to take Archer's hands to help him up. "Besides I've got you to scowled me, I don't need anyone else" He grunted as he pulled up the other's weight, the patted his shoulders gently. "Please don't be mad at me Frank. You're working hard, hell you're worker harder then you were before we got together. Do you expect me to just sit back and let you take the throne without a fight?"

As much as he wanted to say, _yes now shut up and fuck me_ Archer knew better then that. He didn't want to spark another fight between them. So instead he just answered with a cocky, "Yes" And left the fuck for later that night. "Now go on go on or you'll be late. Make sure your uniform is buttoned up right and your zipper isn't open...And for god's sake will you do something about your hair!?"

"See! Scolding!" The Colonel laughed and quickly pulled his uniform on; he'd make sure to tend to it in the restroom on his way to the Fuhrer's office. He kissed his index and middle fingertips, then dabbed them upon Archer's nose before running off. Though he did make sure his uniform was spick and span he conveniently forgot about his hair.

The things he had to go through, Archer reminisced to himself as he pulled his own uniform on quickly inside the supply closet (Well, what if someone walked inside, in dire need of staples?!). If he wasn't dealing with twiddle Dee, he was dealing with twiddle Dumb. Well, he did enjoy his time with Roy especially. Being with him made everything seem so much better. It was actually possible to tolerate a day with Kimbley without shooting any warning shots.

But that didn't mean that things were perfect between the happy couple. Oh no, oh no it was far from perfect. They had promised in silent words when things first began that neither of them intended to drop their ambitions. Both desired the same title, the same rank, the same life style for two very different reasons. It was worth it though, Frank thought to himself, he didn't get many Earthly pleasures so if anything he deserved the comfort of another's arms and the stimulation of his prostate.

"Ah hell there Lieutenant Colonel Archer"

Frank shuddered softly; as soon as he walked out of the closet he was greeted by none other then Fuhrer King Bradley. Wait a minute, that didn't seem right at all. "Sir?" He nearly gasped, immediately clearing his throat and gaining his composure. But not before saluting Bradley properly. "I thought you were in a meeting sir?"

"Oh the meeting hasn't started just yet. You see there's a bit of business I have to take care off. Sadly enough an execution." If it was so sad then why did Bradley smile so broadly, Archer though to himself. "We've captured a man who's deemed guilty of committing sodomy. A faggot you could say"

"Some of the worst scum on this Earth" Archer replied coldly and on cue, he pocketed his hands and idly brushed his fingers against the gun at his holster.

Perhaps now he'd ask Archer if he liked melons. No, no there would be time for jokes later. Bradley gave a good hearted laugh and placed a hand on Archer's shoulder. "I'm afraid that despite his sins I just can't bring myself to do it. Old age brings a sense of humanity to a man that you've never known before. So I've come to ask if you'd do the honors. I know it's a bit short notice, but you're a strong dependable soldier Archer..."

Well, it was rather short notice. He had so much to paperwork to tend too.

"You'll be promoted up one rank for your contribution "

"I've got my gun loaded already sir; show me where this fag resides?"

Archer smirked all the way as he followed Bradley down to the Eastern Wing and out to the shooting range. To think, he was getting a promotion for a passion! Then again not many people enjoyed executions. They were usually done by specialists. "If you don't mind me asking sir, why do you wish for this man to be taken care off so suddenly? Wouldn't it be easier to just lock him away and let the executioner's take care of everything?"

"Well yes it would" Bradley agreed as they approached the range. Standing outside were a couple of guards whom moved out of their path and allowed them access. "But this man is dangerous. When we simply asked him if the accusations were true he attacked me and the council. We have no other choice but to put an end to him now, or he might attempt to escape and forge an assassination against m"

Archer's eyes widened as Bradley stepped inside first. "Do you really think he'd be so bold sir?"

"Most alchemists are. Shame too, he was a damn good soldier…"

"Alchemist...s-soldier?!"

His gun almost slipped from his hands, and his mouth almost gasped wide open, and his feet almost turned on their heel to sprint him the hell out of that shooting range when he saw Roy Mustang tied to that poll.

The Alchemist had been gagged and blind folded, and tied up good. He still struggled here and there in slight fidgets, though he was obviously loosing zeal. His screams had been diminished to nothing more then soft mumbles as his unavoidable doom began to loom on him.

How could this be possible?! "Sir…Roy Mustang?! Sir there must be a mistake! That...That bastard is known to be the biggest playboy in Amestries. Really sir there has to be a-"

"There is _no_ mistake" Bradley hissed, his tone turned so cold even Archers blood froze. "Lieutenant Colonel Archer this man has been declared a homosexual, and by the decree of the Amestrian code he shall be stripped of his rank and punished to the highest existent of the law. You are the law, so I suggest you punish at your highest. Or perhaps you have something to object too? You don't possibly..._care_ about Mustang do you?"

The smile now made sense to Archer. He starred wide eyed at Bradley; his lips trembled softly as he forced them not to beg. The Fuhrer cared not, and just continued to smile. "No..." He wondered if Roy could hear him speak. "I do not care" He wondered if Roy even knew he was there, if he was aware of what was about to happen. Archer could not bring himself to look.

"I am the law"

_Bang._

"What a happy ending! Tell me another story daddy!" Kimbley earned himself a hard shove and a cold splash of vodka. He shrieked highly and immediately began tending to his dampened hair. "Touchy touchy! So you had to kill Mustang. Don't see the harm in it, its not like you liked him anyway"

The Colonel growled drunkenly and held his stomach for a moment, as if ready to blow chunks. He didn't, instead he ordered them both another round of drinks. It seemed as if neither of them was going home sober that night, and he absent mindedly wondered if they'd even make it home. "Killed o' lotta people in my day...But I've never executed anyone...Its so much more personal. You're close enough to see their lips tremble and their knees buckle..."

"Did he cry?" Kimbley mused, sipping his drink. "Did he soil himself?"

"No, he went proudly. Was a proud man I suppose...Not that I knew or anything...I always thought he was a coward...Still though...I feel…dirty...I feel bad..." Archer was finding it harder and harder to keep up his fasade. "Am I bad Kimbley?"

A snort escaped the Crimson Alchemist's lips as he patted Archer's shoulders. "Hell no sir. You're just shit face drunk. Don't worry 'bout it though, the faggot's long gone right? You were only doing your duty"

"Yeah" Archer nodded and leaned back against the counter, starring down into the thick copper colored drink. "It was my duty…"

**Oh Archer you're so adorable when you're drunk. Hope you all enjoyed, please rate and review.**


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